


Bend

by Measured



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, M/M, Power Play, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: "Do you want me to take control?" Soren said in a quiet voice."Yes," Ike said.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren





	Bend

**Author's Note:**

> Porn battle IX, bound, silence. Consensual powerplay, shibari and all that fun stuff.

At times, Ike needed an escape. Because sometimes being the general, the hero, the leader was too much of a strain for anyone, even him. Being constantly on top of things, knowing that one little mistake could kill them all, and he'd go down in history as the man who failed Crimea and sent his family of mercenaries to their doom. Though in truth, he didn't care what history said about him. Their opinion was always changing. That was half of what Soren kept telling him – that 'history was written by the victors' in Daein he was probably about as bad as Ashnard was to Crimea.

But there were times when he wanted a release from these responsibilities, even if only for a single hour in a day. To go back to those days which Soren referred to as 'halcyon' when the biggest worry was if he'd ever be able to best his dad and become a real mercenary some day.

Soren's room was just as clean and always. He was the most unmaterialistic person Ike had ever met.

Soren sat on the desk with his legs crossed. His gaze was steady, unwavering. He'd been waiting.

"Do you want me to take control?" Soren said in a quiet voice.

"Yes," Ike said.

"Very well," Soren replied.

He came down from his perch and brought out the necessary tools. Some thick rope was of course, the most important. Soren may not have been strong, but he was good at tying knots. The ties were made just tight enough to remind him that he was bound, yet not really hurt him. Soren was always prone to such things, never being able to really hurt him even when he wanted to feel the bite and sting of a wound left open to clear his thoughts all day long.

Ike pulled off his clothes and stood there, waiting. Soren bound his hands behind him, and placed a rod of metal behind his back through the gap of his arms.

"Tighter," Ike said.

"You aren't allowed to talk, as you gave the control over. Speak up again like that and I'll have to gag you."

Soren drew his fingers across Ike's lips, put just so to scrape his nails into the tender flesh. Ike quieted.

"On your knees," Soren whispered in his ear. and then pushed Ike down to make the point ever so clear. Despite the size difference, and that Soren was in no way physically dominating, despite that Ike could easily overpower him, there was a quality to his voice. It was cold, still, and yet with its own stubborn authority. Ike knew to trust every word that he said on the battlefield, so now was little difference. He couldn't have fought if he wanted to, so powerful was the feeling of thrall, of delicious obedience.

Soren wasn't strong enough to really hurt him, so the ropes had to suffice. On his knees Soren secured a crisscross of thick rope around him, tied tight enough to leave burns, but not tight enough for Ike's liking. It crisscrossed over his chest, tied at his neck, his back and groin so that whichever way he leaned, it would be uncomfortable, and even biting.

Just as he wanted it.

Soren's gaze on him was intense and focused. He could read Ike in a minute. Less time than that, even. Whatever he'd seen,

"Kiss the floor," Soren ordered.

Ike bent, slightly awkward, due to the cold, imposing presence of the metal rod at his back. He felt pressure at his back as Soren straddled him. The rod, and his bound hands were in Soren's lap. He may have been able to hide his feelings on the matter on his face, but his body wasn't quite so adept at keeping it hidden. Soren was so light. Even with the mark of the control upon him, he couldn't resist light, appreciative touches to Ike's back. Ike moved back, just enough to cause friction . Awkward friction with a barrier of the many layers of Soren's garb, and his lack of mobility, but still enough to make do. He thought for a moment that he might be reprimanded for moving out of turn, but Soren allowed this to pass. He felt Soren's hand holding his head down, his forehead pressed hard against the cold stone floor. Then the weight left him, and he felt his chin being lifted, and himself being edged up.

"Suck."

Soren pushed Ike's face to where he knelt, his hand at the crown of his head. Ike obeyed, taking Soren in his mouth. It was more difficult at this angle, with no brace or angle. It also lacked the visceral pleasure of bringing his hands into the equation, of stroking the paper skin of his balls, or wetting a finger and sticking it inside Soren until he squirmed.

But this wasn't about him, it was the lack of him. The orderly space that happened when he was put to a place where he couldn't think, or even breathe out of turn. Where he was hollowed out, a soldier in Soren's palm and no longer a leader, or anyone of any stature.

The taste as always had a faintly metallic tinge, the pressure arced just right to keep him from gagging. He couldn't see Soren's expression here, so he couldn't tell if it remained as composed as before, or if he'd let loose to the tactician, his friend and the boy he'd always known, and not the mask of the one in control.

When Soren came, it was a rush of salty warm, swallowing and awaiting his next command. Soren brushed himself off, and helped Ike up.

"Are you ready to switch the control back to normal?"

"Yeah," Ike said. He ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood.. He must have bit the inside of his mouth too hard earlier. "I've got to go over some things for tomorrow."

"I'll help, of course," Soren said.

"Of course," Ike replied.

Soren kissed him, a long, gentler kiss as he undid the bindings. Ike stretched, and his neck made a cracking noise as he did so, his bones sliding back into place. There was a lingering stinging feeling from the rope burn. There was still the leftover cuts from sparring earlier that day, and long stretch on his arm where he'd nicked it while jumping a fence to avoid Aimee.

Sometimes he bit the inside of his mouth to make everything come clearer. He wasn't a worrier like Soren, but a little pain could be useful when the enemies were crowding around and he needed a clear head. It was only later that he realized that the pain itself was a sort of comfort, a sharp brand of tough love in Soren's hands.

"Don't use a heal staff," Ike said. "I want it to last a little longer."

Soren didn't look up from gathering the dressings. "I can't have them getting infected.."

Soren used alcohol from a medicinal vat he always kept close to him, and Ike closed his eyes as the stinging sensation came over him. Ike knew it was hard for Soren to do this, and yet he was the only person he could trust to this extent. With Soren, even this became domestic.


End file.
